


are you lost enough? (get lost in us)

by Suicix



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe, Best Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Nighttime, Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 23:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11115135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suicix/pseuds/Suicix
Summary: Still – even when Yugyeom swore that someone from home was his best friend, he never once thought about kissing any of them.





	are you lost enough? (get lost in us)

**Author's Note:**

> title from "perfect places" by lorde because it's almost all i've listened to since it came out (seriously) and without it, this fic would definitely not exist. (the lyrics _i'm nineteen and i'm on fire / but when we're dancing it's all right_ and _are you lost enough? / have another drink, get lost in us / this is how we get notorious_ quite frankly Kill Me Dead.)

The ramyeon place is open until late, but it’s late _now_ so it’s closing soon. Yugyeom and Bambam are sitting in the window, on the high stools that look out at the city and its Friday night glow in all its neon glory. They finished eating what feels like ages ago and yet simultaneously like it’s been no time at all: time’s flown by, just as it always does when the conversation’s this easy, but Yugyeom wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that whole eternities have passed. That’s how being with your best friend is supposed to feel, right? Like you can make the night stretch on forever between the two of you, even if it’s over in an instant.

Yugyeom doesn’t want to be the one to suggest that they should be heading home, but he supposes he should. It’s nearly closing time, after all.

“You think we should leave soon?” he wonders. “We’re gonna get thrown out if we don’t.”

“Sure.” Bambam isn’t looking at him, fixated on the lights outside instead. “It doesn’t mean the night has to be over.”

Yugyeom opens his mouth to argue, because it’s _late_ , but that’s when Bambam turns his head back to Yugyeom and smiles, the nightlife reflected in his eyes like a kaleidoscope, and – _OK._ Suddenly the words aren’t there anymore.

“All right,” he says instead. “What do you have in mind?”

Bambam just shrugs.

“Whatever,” he tells Yugyeom. He stands, reaches for his jacket, and cocks his head towards the door. “Come on.”

The meal’s already been paid for, so there’s no reason to wait around. Yugyeom just follows as Bambam leads him outside where a sea of people awaits them. It’s just as busy as it usually is, and they wander aimlessly through the streets, wherever the current of the crowd takes them.

“When you said _whatever_ , I thought that at least meant more than just walking around,” Yugyeom says after a while, raising his voice to be sure he can be heard over the noise of the night.

“Do I need a reason to want to spend more time with my best friend?” Bambam asks, and Yugyeom just shakes his head, the only appropriate answer there is. Yugyeom definitely never needs a reason for that. “If you want to actually do something so badly, let’s… let’s go to the park.”

“The park?”

“We’re near enough to Namsan, aren’t we? Let’s go there.”

Yugyeom agrees. It’s pretty there at night, and it should be less crowded than it is here, and the air will be fresh and cool, much better than being surrounded by people and pollution.

It isn’t a long walk, just maybe a bit longer than Bambam seemed to think it was. By the time they get there, he’s whining about his feet hurting, but that’s probably because of his shoes: new ones that he hasn’t broken in yet, the ones with the pointy toes that Yugyeom knows he saved up to buy. They look good, though, sharp and stylish, and Bambam’s walk is as confident as ever even as he complains. Yugyeom only seems to notice things that small when it comes to Bambam (and tries not to think too hard about why). It’s that that has him clenching his hand into a fist by his side to stop himself from reaching across and taking Bambam’s in his own. It would be so easy, he thinks – so easy to even just let their hands brush against each other for a moment – but _that’s_ so easy to turn into something else, and he doesn’t think he trusts himself.

It’s weird to have to think about it like that: they touch all the time, and it comes so easily, but it feels like being out here with open space all around them would draw attention to it. They’re not in the cosy, closed space of one of their university dorms or in the corner of a café. They’re surrounded by the sky and the city, and it’s as if out here, every action is magnified, more noticeable – more meaningful.

They stay outside instead of heading to the tower, Bambam dramatically flopping down onto one of the first benches they find and letting out a heavy sigh. Yugyeom sits down next to him and Bambam leans his head against Yugyeom’s shoulder for a moment before straightening up again. Still, he’s just close enough that their thighs are touching, and there’s something electric in that contact, even if it’s just the barest of static.

Again, Yugyeom wills himself not to think too much about it, looking off into the distance instead, at the scenery, the seemingly endless expanse of Seoul all around them. There’s one sign he’s particularly drawn to, one that keeps flickering, the bright white neon blinking back at him like it’s unsure of something. Yugyeom knows what that feels like: he can never quite tell what he wants there to be between him and Bambam, if this is just what it means to be able to say someone’s your best friend or if there’s something else underneath that, something that’s thrilling and frightening in equal parts. Everyone else he’s ever called a best friend in the past has faded away into nothing but the occasional message over SNS because his family moved around so much, but now, he has a constant, has Bambam.

Still – even when Yugyeom swore that someone from home was his best friend, he never once thought about kissing any of them.

(He and Bambam have kissed twice before. The first time was as a dare during a game at a party, their lips sticky with too-sweet mixed drinks and one of Bambam’s hands cupping Yugyeom’s cheek. Yugyeom ended up kissing two other people as part of the game that night, but Bambam’s was the best. Bambam asked about it afterwards, a poke to Yugyeom’s shoulder and a joking _so, I was your favourite, right?_ to which Yugyeom said _oh, of course_ in response. His tone was playful, but he meant it.

The second time was different, could probably count as multiple times, multiple kisses as multiple events across the night. Yugyeom thinks it’s easier to just count it as one, though. That way, he doesn’t get too carried away thinking about it, doesn’t let himself believe that it could mean something or become something more. They had a night out and there was a reason to celebrate, but Yugyeom doesn’t remember what, just that it was something small, Bambam looking for any excuse he could find to go out.

There was as they danced together at the club, their bodies close and the brush of their lips so brief and casual that it could have been passed off as a joke, an accident, had that been all there was. But then there was the bathroom, too: Bambam pulling Yugyeom by the hand and then leading him into a stall to crash their mouths together. The hot press of their bodies and Yugyeom’s back against the wall. The loud bass of the music playing seeping through from underneath the door, subdued but still audible, the rhythm matching the pulse of Yugyeom’s heart. In that moment, everything felt electrifying, every last nerve in Yugyeom’s body sparking up, right down to his fingertips. The shock only came when there was a knock on the door of the cubicle and they broke apart quickly, Bambam’s eyes wide and Yugyeom’s heart beating even harder than before, thump-thump-thumping away in his chest. They were both breathless, and Yugyeom knows he would have let it become more, so much more, had they not been interrupted.

They never spoke about that time afterwards.)

Yugyeom blinks to focus. The landscape and all its lights had blurred into nothing, just vague colours and the darkness that surrounds them. Now, everything’s sharp again, all angles and details.

“Are you OK?”

And when Yugyeom turns to look at Bambam beside him, he sees Bambam in high definition, too. He sees the exact shade that Bambam’s freshly dyed hair has turned under the lamp above them, the barely visible mole under one eye, the curve of his lashes. There’s a stray eyelash on his cheekbone, by the corner of his eye, and again, Yugyeom can’t seem to look away. Another tiny bit of imperfection in something that’s otherwise so beautiful, just like the flickering sign. Yugyeom’s hand becomes a fist again, trying to resist the urge to reach across and brush the eyelash away.

“I’m fine,” he says when he remembers that there was a question, and Bambam frowns. His slight pout is cute, but Yugyeom doesn’t like seeing him anything close to sad, so Yugyeom blurts out, “You know you’re my best friend, right?”

“Of course,” Bambam tells him, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I called you _my_ best friend earlier. It would kind of hurt if you didn’t feel the same, but I know you do, so.”

“Yeah,” Yugyeom says. Of course he feels the same – though that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t also feel uncertain. “Do you think… do you think anything could ever change that?”

“I don’t think anything could.” Bambam’s voice is soft, and his lips look even softer, and when he angles his face towards Yugyeom a little more, the same softness is there in his eyes.

A moment passes them by like this, the two of them silent, eyes on each other, and Yugyeom just can’t take it anymore. He still doesn’t say anything, keeping his question silent, leaning in and asking Bambam _this, could this change it?_ with the gentle press of his mouth on Bambam’s. Another moment – one with no reaction from Bambam and Yugyeom’s heart sinking down through his ribcage – but then Bambam’s kissing back, and it means _no, never._ One of Bambam’s hands reaches for Yugyeom’s face, just like that first time, his fingertips cool against Yugyeom’s cheek. Yugyeom shivers and lets the kiss deepen, lets his lips part and lets Bambam in.

It’s better than a brief spin the bottle kiss that wanted to linger, better than an even more fleeting kiss in the middle of the dancefloor, better than a half-drunk make out in a club bathroom that wanted to become more than just that. It’s everything Yugyeom thinks he could have hoped for, and even as they pull away from each other, the look on Bambam’s face is everything he wants, too: his eyes are dark, so dark, and he’s halfway between surprised and smiling like he can’t believe it either. The eyelash that was on his cheek is gone.

When Yugyeom manages to tear himself away for a moment, letting his eyes drift back to the city around them, he can’t see that one flashing sign anymore. It’s probably completely broken, finally succumbed to the darkness, but he chooses to believe that it’s lit up again instead, chooses to believe that because right now, that’s how he feels. Like he’s glowing from the inside out, as bright and as certain as the hum of the city on a night like this. He imagines coming back here with Bambam, going up in the tower, fastening a lock together on the roof terrace. He imagines everything a kiss like that one could turn into – and he doesn’t even have to imagine that Bambam wants it as much as he does.

“Hey.” Bambam nudges at Yugyeom’s arm with a sharp elbow. It hurts, just barely, but Yugyeom can’t bring himself to care. “Didn’t you say this afternoon that your roommate was gone for the weekend?”

“He won’t be back until Monday,” Yugyeom says, and Bambam smirks, eyes glittering. That’s that decided, then. Bambam’s slept there before, slept in Yugyeom’s bed before, even, but not like this. Never like this, never with the security that they both definitely want the same thing.

This time, Yugyeom lets his hand slip into Bambam’s as they walk, his grin as bright as the city lights when Bambam squeezes his hand back, their fingers clasped together as tightly as the thousands of padlocks on the tower up above them.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm really glad i remembered the existence of namsan park/the n seoul tower/its locks of love for this fic! thanks for reading, everyone - you can also find me on tumblr @ vibetechs!!


End file.
